Behold, classmates, my work of art

Mrs. Camp, my sixth-grade English teacher, had an odd sense of humor. Whenever one of us balked and tried to stammer out an explanation before reading our pieces, she would make us stand, face the class, and loudly proclaim, "Behold, classmates, my work of art!"

With that in mind, let's just cut to the chase. Behold, world, my dressing.

My hands still smell slightly of onions and garlic.

My knife "technique" concerns Corner, but to be fair, our knives are dull and that sausage was tough.

I have gained an appreciation for the Cuisinart.

I have also learned just how much "six cups" actually is...6 c rice + 3 c stock + 4 c vegetables and sausage = Lauren needs an actual Dutch oven. No worries, I split the rice and just divvied everything else. The second pot contains more of the same.

The dressing was an adventure in so many ways. I began to realize just how much our dorm kitchen lacks in the way of standard amenities - you know, like multiple measuring cups, measuring spoons, and a Dutch oven. Oh well. This is trial by fire time, and I've produced something vaguely chicken flavored.

Midway through my preparations, Corner told me that he thinks I'm probably a good cook. Why, I asked. Apparently, since everyone else on the floor is a good cook, I'm obliged to be at least halfway decent. Maybe.

It's Thanksgiving. With my mad knife skills, I'm thankful that I didn't cut a finger off, and that Leigh and Cali are making the turkey and pies.